


Comfortable

by Dazzledfirestar



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Gen, Long-Term Relationship(s), Male-Female Friendship, Nick needs a break sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar/pseuds/Dazzledfirestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks maybe being the big boss means you get to pick where and with whom you work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArwenLune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/gifts).



> Written for [this prompt](http://marvel-poc.livejournal.com/2221.html?thread=11949#t11949) in the Marvel POC Exchange Treats section.

She’s not entirely sure when exactly they started doing this. She’s not entirely sure what his angle is—if there is one, but it’s Fury so there has to be some kind of angle—or why he picked her as his secret little safe haven from rampaging bureaucrats and egomaniacal superheroes. But he brings the good coffee and occasionally those poppy seed bear claws from the bakery down the street from HQ. He never really wants to talk. He just sets his laptop down on the opposite side of the desk, pulls up a chair and goes back to work. 

It is always comfortable. Like it used to be. Before he was promoted. Before Bahrain. Before things got extremely complicated. He didn’t ask how she felt. She didn’t try to learn things that were above her clearance level. They enjoyed the coffee and baking and every once in a while whatever stress cooking he’d done the night before that he’d made too much of and had to share with someone—“Take it. I’m already feeding Hill and Coulson and Sitwell for the next week.”—and it’s simple. Easy.

But the curiosity always lingers. Not that she’d ever ask anything about why he chose her space to come to but she had a suspicion or two.

“"Stark still hasn't worked out you don't have a secret second office, sir?"

He lifts his head and for a second she catches sight of a smile she hadn’t seen in years. One that reminds her of being very, very young and thinking that they—her, Nick, Phil, John, Blake, Hand—were going to save the world. "I don't?" 

“I don’t think I’m cleared to know that.”

“We’ll have to promote you then.”

She can’t quite hold back the tiny smile that brings forth. “And leave all this?”

“I promise more of my cooking if you do.”

“That is tempting.”

He chuckles softly, closing the laptop for a moment. “More bear claws?”

“Mm. Keep sweetening the deal and I might just agree.”

“I’ll give you the name of my coffee connection.” He smirks and leans on the edge of the desk.

One of her eyebrows creeps up. “Revealing your contacts? Director Fury, I’m shocked!”

“Everybody slips now and then.” He nearly grins—Nick grins, Director Fury smirks; she learned that distinction a long time ago—and reopens his laptop, going back to work and reinstating the easy silence between them.

That’s how it works. That’s the system. Small bouts of the old days between comfortable silences and on the really bad days, Ziploc containers full of what she’s been told is his mother’s stew. And she thinks maybe, that’s why he picked this spot. Because it’s quiet. Comfortable. No bluster. No idle chatter. No questions he has to lie to answer or she has to glare at to avoid. Companionable silence was, she thought, one of the best things to be able to share with a friend.

So on a particularly rough Friday, when he isn’t really getting anything done and she’s watching him press his fingers hard against his temples in what is obviously an effort to stave off a headache, she reaches over and closes the laptop for him. When he lifts his gaze to hers she shakes her head and opens a drawer in her desk, pulling her purse out and climbing to her feet. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She lets a small smile cross her face as an explanation he gave her years ago as she tried to get used to sitting behind a desk instead of a control panel and holding a pen instead of a weapon leaves her mouth. “Dinner. Away from here.”

“Agent May—“

“I don’t want to hear the word ‘agent’ for a couple hours, Nick. Come on.”

The smile is slow in coming but it shows up eventually and he stands, putting the laptop back in its case and stretching out the kinks that have come to life in his spine, sitting for too long in a rather uncomfortable chair. “Okay, Mel. There’s a new Ethiopian place that opened up a while ago I want to try.”

“Vegetarian?”

“You know me better than that.”

She smiles and shakes her head. Something’s really never change and no trauma or promotion or time away could do anything about it. But you can learn a lot from someone’s silence too and she’s always known that. Besides, she likes their silences. She tosses her car keys at him and sighs. “Yes I do.”


End file.
